


The brass heart

by yssanne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon!Dean, Ficlet, M/M, MCD (mentioned), Samulet, prompted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yssanne/pseuds/yssanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam's death, Dean receives a box with his things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The brass heart

When the package arrives, it’s not delivered by FedEx or regular post. Cowering black eyes surrender it while trying to look as if they look straight at him and not anywhere but. It’s an ordinary cardboard box, big and clumsy to hold, as life usually is.

Cowering eyes of course doesn’t put it into words, some things all of them fear and saying the Winchester name out loud is just asking for trouble even if one of them is standing in front of him. After all, he’s as easy on the trigger now as he was while he was bane of their existence.

He’s possibly worse now, a monster and it’s a fact everyone knows - a hybrid that shouldn’t walk this earth or any other really.

Cowering eyes leaves and he opens the box. Everything’s in there, everything he knows his brother had and some stuff he never saw. Shirts so different from person he knew and they can’t be from other than purgatory time, when his brother tried to pretend all was well.

There’s plaid too, shirts that go years back and pants that would never never fit him and metal. So many blades and guns and he knows cowering eyes didn’t take any of it and that’s the way it should be. Nobody touches Winchesters or what’s their or they pay for it, no matter what or how or when.

He starts pulling it all out, the box was too heavy only for that and after all Sam’s life was always more than weapons, foolish as he was, and of course, on the bottom there’s his laptop and several books that hiss at him. The box is now more similar to Sam, empty and useless, but as he starts crumpling it something is not quite right. He tears it apart and there it is.

Son of a bitch. He can’t believe Sam really went back for it, but then Sam was always the sentimental one (look where that brought him). Small brass head dangles from well worn leather cord staring blindly at him and for a moment he gets a funny urge to switch to black and return its glare with an equally monochrome one.

The amulet speaks of other life. It brings back memories of a man who grew too old too early. Of foolish notions of love and belief that nothing could stand between the two of them. But hell, Sam’s dead now, gone for good this time. It’s better that way anyway because he’s grown tired already of pulling his strings. The scrap of metal he holds in his hand is just a proof of that.

Before he would defend it, say it was a good life and all that shite, but honestly? It wasn’t. They did manage to keep each other thinking that, but it was more childish stubbornness and love (Really? Love?) That kept them in one piece. Wasn’t anything to look back and think fondly of. Only now he’s free. For the first time he’s completely free.

He takes a deep breath, realization there’s finally nobody else sweet in his lungs and looks at the brass head that once represented all that was in his heart -

Oh well.

Trashcan it is.

 


End file.
